


Heartbeats

by pan_ismyhomeboy



Series: Polyamorous Avocados at Law [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Kink Meme, Multi, post S1, unapologetic schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 10:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3807682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pan_ismyhomeboy/pseuds/pan_ismyhomeboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the only things that helps Matt calm down is listening to Foggy and Karen's heartbeats. The sound reminds him that they're still alive, and safe, and here. With him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbeats

It's been a week since Fisk was put away, since nearly half the police force has been uprooted and replaced with real good guys this time, since Hell's Kitchen learned the truth about their supposed savior and devil alike — a week since their world nearly fell apart and got stitched back together, and Matt's not sure if his city will ever heal. Or if  _they_  will ever heal. He has his hopes and they get a little brighter every day, each time he wakes up in the morning and remembers that this time they actually  _won_. But then he remembers Ben, and Sra. Cardenas, and the sound of Foggy crying as he yelled at him, and the way Karen quietly broke at some point when he hadn't been watching, and the hope inside him fades back to a faint ember. Warm, but barely there, something to protect and hide from the world.  
  
He's more affectionate now — they all are. Foggy was always touchy-feely, but now he insists on a round of bear hugs when any of them leave the office. He doesn't have to say "just in case," but it's obvious just the same. Karen always has a hand on one of their arms now, opening up her personal space to naturally include the other two at all times. More than once she's rested her head on Matt's shoulder when they're reviewing cases and he's done the same in return. And Matt — well, if the kisses he's exchanging with both of them seem tinged with relief and worry, neither Karen nor Foggy have had it in them to point it out.  
  
He tracks them now wherever they are, so long as they're within distance of his senses: the sound of Karen's heels from blocks away, the smell of Foggy's aftershave from the day before. The exact pitch of their voice, the rate of their pulse, everything he can pick up to tell him if they're okay or not. Most of the time they are, or as okay as they'll ever be. But not all the time. Sometimes, there's a quiet hitch to their breath or a fidget as their mind wanders to something that makes their heart rate spike even though there's no immediate danger. Matt wants to take them both by the shoulders and promise that they'll be okay, that he won't let anything happen to them ever again, that he  _loves_  them more than he's ever loved himself, but he's not even sure  _he_ believes all that, some days.  
  
They fall into bed as naturally as breathing, though Matt isn't there as many nights as he is, and Foggy's still seeing his ex, and Karen's still halfway convinced she'll get the people she invites into her apartment killed. Sometimes there are only two of them and more often than not all they do is sleep in a pile together, clothes tossed to the side and Foggy snoring like his namesake. Sex with all three of them together is... a work in progress, sometimes awkward (because none of them have any experience with threesomes and all of them are bursting with painfully strong love for the others), sometimes not so much. It's here in the darkness of one of their homes, tangled in the limbs of his two dearest friends that Matt finally lets himself go and let himself be overwhelmed by the sheer presence of Foggy and Karen at his side.  
  
Their skin, warm and heavy with the mix of musk, and cooling sweat, and soap, and perfume.  
  
The gentle rise and fall of their chests, a steady reminder that they're still safe, still alive.  
  
Their hearts, beating at their own slow rhythm as they sleep, a welcome percussion in his ears.  
  
Slowly he shuts down his awareness of anything beyond the room. (As best he can, anyway. He'll never  _not_  listen for sirens, for voices and footsteps that shouldn't belong, for the metallic scent of guns or knives or whatever else might be used to hurt the people he cares about.) The sounds of nighttime traffic across the city fade in his ears as he focuses on their hearts - Foggy to the left of him, Karen to his right. Combined, the two heartbeats form a pattern all their own that chants to him  _we are still here, we are still safe_.  
  
He loves them, he realizes, and not for the first time. It's such a strong, immutable fact that it still takes him by surprise. Somehow it seeped under his skill and filled his entire body when he wasn't paying attention. He'd loved Foggy for a long time and had long since come to care for Karen, but the two of them, here,  _together_ , or hunched over a table, or slinging back shots at Josie's, or just being at Matt's side no matter how much of a fool he might be —  
  
_Still here. Still here. Still here._  
  
Matt lets everything else fade away. His own heartbeat slows in response and finally he lets himself fall asleep.


End file.
